literary

Austen, Speare, or Something Else? Choosing a Mentor Novel

December 14, 2012 by Rhonda 5 Comments

Novelists out there: Ever been asked to choose a “mentor” novel?

The intensive novel writing class I begin soon requires that I choose a mentor novel. This is a novel that I have already read and loved for its style, genre, tone, plotting, humor, language, or whatever reason, and wish to emulate in some way.

Question is, what to choose? What novels are educative for the writer learning her craft?

I can say what will not work. My preference might be the Eliots and Tolstoys, but Middlemarch and War and Peace wouldn’t make good mentor novels. At least, good mentor novels for the likes of me. Why? They are too long and too complex. Normally, as a reader, I would consider these to be good qualities in a novel. Who doesn’t love delving into the delightful complexities of an epic masterpiece? But they fail as mentor novels because a writer would be hard-pressed to get their minds around the structure of those books. And getting our minds around the structure of a book is what having a mentor novel is all about.

That being said, I’m toying with two novels right now: Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice and The Witch of Blackbird Pond by Elizabeth George Speare.

Pride and Prejudice is an easy, obvious choice. I love Austen’s novels and I know them well (maybe a little too well). She’s a master at characterization, and emulating her would also help me achieve my near-impossible goal of being funny (considering that I’ve boldly opined on the lack of humor in new Catholic literature). Perhaps, with Austen’s help, I’ll dream up another Mr. Collins?

Pinched from here.

One can only hope.

My one objection to using Pride and Prejudice is that it’s everyone’s mentor novel. Need proof? The Elizabeth Theory. Contemporary fiction has way, way too many Elizabeth knockoffs. Other than Shakespeare’s Beatrice (Much Ado About Nothing), I cannot think of a single female literary character prior to P&P with the temperament and talent of an Elizabeth Bennett. She became a type when she arrived on the scene – a beloved and much imitated type – and since then our female characters are measured according to the Pride and Prejudice standard.

My more pressing goal, however, is to work on plotting, and for that I can think of no better example than the Newbury Award winning novel The Witch of Blackbird Pond. That Disney hasn’t already turned it into a movie is surprising, considering its vast popularity with fifth-grade teachers. It’s a compelling and tightly written story set in colonial Connecticut, and the opening chapters are near perfection in its hook, establishment of the premise, characterization, scene structure, and foreshadowing. And, being a children’s story, the plot is easier to analyze. Kit is another Elizabeth Bennett type, of course, but otherwise it’d be a great book to imitate.

How about you? What novel (or book, for you non-fiction writers) would you choose as a mentor novel, and why?

Filed Under: Current Projects, Writing & Theory Tagged With: Books, Characters, children's books, Elizabeth George Speare, fiction, Jane Austen, literary, Novel, stories, storytelling, Writers, Writing & Theory

Writer’s Notebook, 5/22/12: Forward, Not Backward

May 22, 2012 by Rhonda Leave a Comment

Two weeks ago, I “surrendered” the novel. It wasn’t going anywhere, I still hadn’t solved my climax problem, and as we were traveling, it seemed best to let go and let God.

Folks, letting go and letting God always, always, always works.

Because, naturally – of course! – the story began to come together in my head in the middle of our visit to D.C. When I had no computer, no time, and no intention to write.

God is good.

Look! Actual words written!

The day after we returned home, Ascension Thursday (or what would normally be Ascension Thursday), we began a novena to the Holy Spirit for my writing. And in the past two days I have written two, almost three, entirely new scenes.

Seriously, people. God is good.

“My new writing motto is ‘forward, not backward,’” I tweeted the other day. Finally, I’m learning that I cannot write this story perfectly from the start. The story must be told, at least once, before I can refine it.

I must write. Just write.

I cannot continue to loop back and rewrite the same scenes over and over again. There will be time to go back and revise and edit and chuck the whole darn thing, later. On another day. In another frame of mind.

The chores, the blog, my email, the sinkhole that is Twitter and Google Reader – they all call my name. And yet I’ve have been given grace these few days to persevere and just write. “For thirty minutes,” I told myself Monday afternoon. “I can stare at this screen for thirty minutes.” Ninety minutes later I had written another scene.

Yeah, baby. That’s what I’m talkin’ about.

Now, some random:

Following up from the other week: I joined the Catholic Writers Guild. I have yet to really plumb the depths of their offerings, however, I am already excited to be an official member of an official writing group. It makes me feel like a real writer. Or something like. Anyway. I sincerely hope I find support and friendship through this fellowship of writers.

Jessica Page Morrell’s Thanks, But This Isn’t For Us continues to be a source of humorous enlightenment – I’m reading it a second time. Go buy it. Pinky-swear, it’ll help your writing.

As promised, I finally started rereading Anna Karenina. The verdict? Don’t read this book in high school, like I did, and reject it. This is a grown-up book, for grown-ups with grown-up experiences and with grown-up sympathies. And it is amazing.

And, finally, I found this blog post by Sarah Reinhard on using images on blogs both helpful and convicting. Stealing is bad, ladies and gentlemen, and I am guilty of stealing. Mea culpa. From now on I will only use open domain images. I have also reviewed my older posts and have replaced or deleted as many images as possible. (Some posts still contain “pinched” images because the content depended on the image – sorry, artists and photographers.)

I was also glad to see Kristin Lavransdatter get a shout-out the other week. Another amazing book. And, how about Brideshead Revisited, here? And, short stories, anyone?

One last thought, and I’m done. If you haven’t already subscribed to Dappled Things, give yourself a gift and do so. It’s a fine publication with a great mission: renewing and revising Catholic literature and art.

Filed Under: C'est Moi, Current Projects, Writing & Theory Tagged With: Art, blogging, Books, Catholic, copyright, copyright usage, Education, fiction, friendship, Gratitude, images, literary, literature, Novel, Personal, Plot, short stories, stories, story development, storytelling, Tolstoy, Undset, writer's block, Writer's Notebook, Writers, writers groups, Writing & Theory

Spontaneous Storytelling With Children, Part Four: Literary Devices

May 21, 2012 by Rhonda Leave a Comment

(Part One / Part Two / Part Three)

Credit: WikiCommons

What literary devices – good, bad, and otherwise – do we naturally gravitate toward in telling a spontaneous story?

Our creation of a story naturally gravitates toward the universal “rules” of satisfying stories: A premise with a conflict, complicated, with a major reversal at the midpoint, rising to a climax before resolving. In three acts.

And our spontaneous stories for children tend to have archetypal characters tend to draw on archetypes: heroes and dragons, good fathers, evil stepmothers, damsels in distress, etc. Creating characters while storytelling is almost easy.

The challenge in telling stories with children is learning to first say “no” to the characters – and, consequently, the child – before saying “yes.”

When Clare, Kate, and I made up a princess tale, I found myself playing the devil’s advocate in order to advance the story. You see, Princess Annabelle and Princess Judy have now fought many monsters, and their preparedness for adventure and mischance would make the Boy Scouts proud. They are prepared. Their backpacks have everything a princess-in-distress might need. Including magic wands that can do anything.

In other words, they want easy solutions.

Children want their heroes to succeed. But easy solutions make for a story-less story. And so it’s my job to make sure the princesses face adversity. Burn their backpacks in the fiery breath of a dragon. Lose their wands down a deep crevice at the bottom of the ocean.

Deus ex Wand-ica, begone!

When the adult storyteller provides conflict, complications, reversals, and suspense, the child has an opportunity to exercise his or her logic and reasoning powers to find solutions. The story itself provides the incentive – children want resolution. Success. A happy ending. But, when the adult allows them to find the solution themselves, they must stretch their minds and their imaginations in order to achieve that resolution.

I’m happy to let them stretch themselves this way. And I’m happy that, in writing my own novel, I’m stretched this way.

Filed Under: House & Kids, Writing & Theory Tagged With: Books, Characters, Children, fiction, imagination, literary, Literary Devices, Novel, Plot, stories, storytelling, Writing & Theory

Spontaneous Storytelling With Children: A Lost Art?

April 30, 2012 by Rhonda 6 Comments

“Tell me a story!”

It was a steamy summer afternoon in D.C. I had been babysitting our friends’ children – Clare, age five, and Kate, age three – regularly that summer so that their mother could finish her doctoral dissertation. The girls and I had just returned from the park, hot and sweaty and tired, they from playing, I from the mile walk. Lunch, clean up, quiet time.

And then came the request. I, of course, looked for a book. No books. Many children’s books sat stacked high on a shelf, but I did not see them.

“Oh, oh! A story!” said the other sister, joining us.

“Once upon a time,” I began (because all stories begin this way), “there were two princesses. Princess Clare and Princess Kate.”

“Wait!” interrupted Clare. “Can I be Princess Annabelle?”

“Okay.”

“And I’m Princess Judy,” drawled the high voice of three-year-old Kate.

“Alright,” I agreed. “Once upon a time, there were two princesses. Princess Annabelle and Princess Judy. They lived in a shining castle at the top of a mountain…”

The girls sat eager and engaged as I spun out one tale, and then another, and then another. Princess Annabelle and Princess Judy live in the Castle of Udolpho (apologies to Ann Radcliffe) in the middle of the Machanitcal Forest (a cross between magical and enchanted ). They meet and befriend a knightly dwarf and a unicorn named Nellie who help them slay the monsters and dragons they meet in the magical twists and turns of the forest, only to return home to the comforts of their castle and the love of their parents, the King and Queen.

The girls have not forgotten these stories. In fact, for three years, after their family moved back to the Seattle area, the girls and their parents have continued to tell the tales of the Castle of Udolpho. New characters have been introduced, others lost. The Princesses have voyaged to the ends of the earth and back, always keeping their knapsacks handy, filled with magic wands, clothes, food, bandages, flashlights, and the definitive edition of the Monsters Field Guide, that they themselves wrote and continue to revise. These Princesses are budding naturalists.

When I visited them, three years later, this past January, Clare and Kate were eager for more stories. “Can you tell us a Machantical Forest story? Please? Please? Please?”

So I did.

Spontaneous storytelling with children is a delight. It is also something of a lost art, I suspect. In our home, a board book is always within reach, and we read, rather than tell, stories. (My stories with Clare and Kate are the exception, not the rule.) It makes me wonder what we’re losing, if we are indeed losing it.

What does oral and spontaneous storytelling foster in the child – and in the adult – that the board or picture book cannot?

What makes for children receptive to – and participants in – oral storytelling?

And what literary devices – good, bad, and otherwise – do we naturally gravitate toward in telling a spontaneous story?

I’d like to explore these questions over the next few weeks. I encourage you to share your thoughts and special memories of storytelling, either as the child hearing or the adult spinning the tale, in the comment box. As a parent and a learning and growing storyteller, I am eager to incorporate your thoughts and experiences into my own reflections.